


Crêpes

by PhakeFysics



Series: Fallen Hero - Abyss/Anton [11]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 23:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20367040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhakeFysics/pseuds/PhakeFysics





	Crêpes

You didn't really know how you got here. Why you were here. Why you were invited in. 

Mostly, you didn't understand, or more importantly, like the fact that you didn't so much mind being on his couch at the moment. The mug of coffee was forgotten in your hands, cool enough to rest on your lap as you chewed your inner cheek, staring at the coffee table.

Daniel's apartment was… lavish. Excessive. Ostentatious. But from what you knew of him, he was used to luxury and excess. You didn't rightly care…no, part of you did actually care. You didn't know why, but you did. In hindsight, you had money too… well… Abyss had money.

You hear a faint clatter and are briefly pulled from your thoughts, glancing over at the blond in the kitchen, watching his back as he busied himself at the stove. Pfannkuchen. Or in France and America; crêpes. They were simple but tedious to make. He asked you what you wanted. You wanted space and wanted to appease him, so you asked for simple, but time consuming.

Lately he was in your thoughts far too much. He never brought up that spar on the rooftop since it happened. He didn't treat you any different since he found out. The only difference being how gently he handled your wrists if he had an inkling you had a shitty night prior. 

Admittedly… you hadn't lashed out against yourself since; either too busy or too tired. You idly wonder how he feels about Abyss after getting nearly fried to death by them. 

You look up again, watching him ladle some more batter into the pan, swirling it fluidly and setting it back on the burner with a clink. You bite your lip as you watch that all-too-tight shirt pull and shift with those muscles and you remember how all of them convulsed and spasmed during the encounter.

You bite down harder and look away, feeling something settle in your gut: guilt.

No. No, no, no! You couldn't feel guilt at a time like this. But the urge to throw your arms around him, kiss him full of apologies-

You grip the coffee mug so tightly, your knuckles go white. Absolutely not! Disgusting thoughts. _Affection?_

You pin your gaze against the man in the kitchen again, glaring poisoned daggers into the back of his head - you knew it! He had this planned from the start, didn't he? Get close to you, make you feel guilty, make 'Sidestep' come out of retirement. 

Setting the cup down, you lean back against the couch, undoing the bottom of your braid, undoing and redoing. Undoing and redoing. Over and over your fingers expertly twisted the last few inches of your hair; your only redeeming factor.

It was a nervous tick you had developed; nervously fiddling with your hair. You supposed it was better than your other, more extreme alternative.

You barely noticed when the couch shifted next to you, the arm sliding over your shoulders. The strong hand, time and time again, pulling you from the drowning depths, pulling you into the safety of the boat and holding you close. You hated it. No… you hated how much you appreciated it. How much you knew you needed it. You didn't want to get better. Getting better meant losing resolve. You had to see this through to the end.

You look into those sky blue eyes. Not the dark blue of an infinite sea to drown in, but sky blue, free and light, where birds soared, free from the shackles of the earth and the tomb of the ocean.

"Are the crêpes ready?" You force a smile, unable to slip behind the mask fast enough. His smile falters, but his strong arm brings you close and you're immediately pinned against him in a hug. Your mind snaps and your instinct is to pull away and glare or hit him. Something! Anything! Fight back! 

But your body slumps against the warmth, his deodorant and faint sweat from the sparring session mingling into an alluring scent you didn't even know you liked. Your back relaxed as you rested your cheek against his shoulder.

The small boat rocked against the dark ocean where predators lurked. But the boat was Safety. The hand reaching in with reckless abandon to pull you out, despite the monsters of the deep wanting to bite it off.

You begin to pull away, lungs not used to anything other than drowning, but a hand is at the back of your head, keeping you softly still. Usually anyone touching your hair would have you in a frenzy, but all you could feel were the warm, mingling sensations of safety. You felt safe. You were safe. Safe.

You didn't realize your arms wrapping around him in return, your eyes daring to slip shut. 

He holds you there for a few, long, calming heartbeats before finally letting you go, giving you that brilliant smile; a warm, bright sunny day between the dark, rainy nights.

"Yep! Crepes are done!"

You resist licking your lips in hunger, "Y...ou have Nutella spread… right?" 

His smile only brightens and he takes your hands so softly in his and leads you to the bar near the kitchen to eat.


End file.
